Manic Pixie Dream Girl
by eccentricvagabond
Summary: Tobias is beyond ready to end his miserable life. That is until someone pulls him from his melancholic void and shows him a world he had once forgotten.
1. preface

Urban Dictionary: Manic Pixie Dream Girl

A Manic Pixie Dream Girl or MPDG, is a term coined by film critic Nathan Rabin after seeing Elizabethtown. It refers to "that bubbly, shallow, cinematic creature that exists solely in the fevered imaginations of sensitive writer-directors to teach broodingly soulful young men to embrace life and its infinite mysteries and adventures." **A pretty, outgoing, whacky female romantic lead whose sole purpose is to help broody male characters lighten up and enjoy their lives. **


	2. one

Today is the day I've decided to die.

It baffles me that people would look baffled if they ever hear me say that out loud. It's one of those unspoken things in a community. You're nuts if your ever decide when or how you should die. On the contrary though, it's perfectly acceptable for you to decide how you will live. But it never is if you decide how to die. I could never grasp that kind of conformity. Who are they to judge me for taking over my fate?

I have suffered for far too long. I am done. Funny how I didn't picture my life to be this way five years later. But things changed the moment she was gone.

This one time, when I was holding her in my arms as she falls asleep, the petty and lesser side of my mind took over and imagined my life when things had finally settled down. In every scenario that pops in my head, she's there. Always.

But like I said, things changed.

I told myself that if five years later, I still feel just as hurt, angry and hollow, I would put an end to this misery. It is a vow. I gave myself my word. And the five year mark has finally come. I still feel like hell.

I know it's selfish to just leave like this. I have people around me, just as I have been there for them. The guilt of leaving them overpowers me, but it's only a momentary lapse. My mind sets back to my original intention. Still, they haunt my mind. Cristina. Zeke. Shauna. Matthew. Hell, even Caleb. And my mother.

They had been supportive of me, offering what they can to make it better. And it did. For a while. It kills me to part with them and I know they would at least feel the same. But they have to understand. One day, they will.

This is why I left Chicago. I've expressed my silent goodbyes to them on my last good day. My last memories of them are good, just as theirs of mine are. It's the best parting gift I could give. I don't want to have them bury me. I don't want the memory of my death to be burned in their minds. It's better if I just cease to exist in their lives.

I drive my car up a silent road, with only my headlights to guide me. Though I know I am driving up a highway on the side of a cliff, I still couldn't see anything. This doesn't scare me, not like it would before. It's almost comforting. I could almost feel like she is guiding me to her. I'm not just driving aimlessly. I'm coming to her.

I step on the gas pedal and the truck accelerates. My heart beats so much faster, the organ wildly thumping in my rib cage. I'm surprised the bones didn't break altogether. I could feel her. I could feel myself coming to her.

It's dark, I could barely see a thing, which I like very much. That way, nothing can distract me from my thoughts on her. I can only draw up almost blurry pictures in my mind, subtle hints of her. The brazen look in her eyes when she fell down on the net, the first moment I laid my eyes on her intently. Her fingers, so slender and tiny and feminine, interlocking with mine. Her smile when the strong wind gushes through her as she sits on top of the ferris wheel. The soft features on her face as I press a kiss on her jaw.

I only try to remember the good ones. Only the good ones.

But that doesn't mean I hate everything else. No. Everything about her is what builds up the ache in my chest, the knot in my gut, the shivers down my spine.

I couldn't go on without her. Not anymore. She was my life and now she's long gone, left me empty.

I swerve my car to the right and when I feel that it's time, I let go of the steering wheel. I let Tris guide me to her.

And that's when I feel a hard collision. That's when I black out.

•••

"Clear!"

I hear a woman say. And then I'm out again.

"Charge to two hundred. Clear." She pauses. "BP's stable, let's move him."

I heard her say again. She said a bunch after that, but I couldn't make sense of it. I couldn't understand what she's saying. I could feel my body being moved and then my back hitting something soft. My body...I feel like every inch of it aches. Everything. But this kind of pain isn't unfamiliar to me.

A moment later, I open my eyes again. The first that I see is a girl. She's sitting beside where I am lying and is looking out the window. And then she looks down on me.

"Sir?" She asks but I barely acknowledge it as I take in my surroundings.

Judging by the vibration, I'm guessing I'm in a vehicle. A truck with a large interior. Adding to what I am lying on in the middle of the interior are the chair the lady is sitting on and a few cabinets on the side. And then I suddenly feel this plastic cup on covering my mouth and nose. There's wind gushing through it. Oxygen.

She notices me trying to remove the oxygen on my face and she wraps her fingers around my wrist, gently pulling it down. She smiles at me, despite the rather intricate situation I am in.

"You'll be alright, sir. You're in an ambulance on the way to the hospital now." She says softly. Her voice is supposed to be reassuring but I don't feel assured. Not now.

I try to say something, anything, but she beats me to it again.

"You're doing great, sir. Just stay still and they'll patch you up once we reach the hospital."

I still just stare at her because I am still dumbstruck.

The paramedic senses my still uneasiness towards her. She says next, "My name is Caroline and I really do assure you that there's no need to panic."

The way she says the words, it's light and airy. She says them so kindly that I briefly think this isn't real. No person can come off as nicely—too nicely—by just saying those mere words.

But then a hand, her hand, closes on my wrist, giving it a comforting squeeze. She offers me another smile that seems to take up too much of my attention. For a fleeting moment, I feel the swell ambiance coming off of it.

But then I remember my failed suicide, surrender to my overpowering grief, and I feel the misery clouding around me again.

I'm back to square one.

•••

"So the paramedic says that your car hit a tree pretty hard."

A male doctor says as he fits my arm into a brace. I don't respond to him. I don't feel like talking anyway.

"It's a miracle you didn't fall off the cliff altogether. Had your car swerved a little more..." He shakes his head and then smiles at me. "That tree basically saved your life."

That tree. That fucking tree. I'm gonna chop it off the second I get the chance to do so.

"Alright," the doctor stands up, takes his surgical gloves off as he says, "the bones in your arm got pretty jammed up and you have a few broken ribs...but you're fine. But I still recommend you to stay here for the night. What with the concussion and possible internal bleeding. You should be closely monitored."

Why can't he stop talking?

He clears his throat. "So, I'm gonna ask you again, what is your name? You had no identification with you when the paramedics brought you in. Right now, you're a John Doe and we can't call anyone for a John Doe."

Because there is no one to call. Besides, I have a task to finish, my last ever task.

"I'd like to be discharged." I say. My throat feels rough and kind of hurts a little. My voice sounds new also.

"In this state? I don't—"

"You want to put me in a room? Well, I refuse to give you my consent. I won't sign the forms. I won't pay." It takes a lot for me not to just yell my way out of this building. Even talking exhausts me. Lucky I don't plan on doing much of it anymore.

The doctor stares at me for a moment and sighs. "Fine. But you better make sure you have someone at home to look after you."

"I do." I lie.

•••

As I walk out of the emergency room doors, I feel the strong breeze and with my weak body, I almost stumble back. It's funny how I used to endure all kinds of force almost naturally. I adjust the arm sling on my shoulder and start walking again.

"Hey!"

I try to ignore the voice, whoever that is. Chances are, I'm not who she's calling and I don't feel like talking anyway.

"Hey, you!"

I ignore, still.

"Wait a sec." She's right next to me now and I realize it's the paramedic from earlier. Caroline, I think is her name. I don't stop walking for her so she joins me in the action.

She looks at me bewilderedly, despite the slight smile on her face. Her blonde hair is the lightest shade I have ever seen. It's tied to a ponytail but the long bangs frame her—I can't help but notice—delicate face. Her sparkling blue eyes are in perfect contrast with her ivory skin.

She asks, "Where are you going?"

"Why do you care?" I ask, sounding ruder than I intend.

"Uh, what do you think?" She asks sarcastically. "You have a bunch of broken bones. You have some nasty cuts and bruises. You are concussed." She says as if the idea that I look awfully hurt has never dawned on me before.

I just look at her.

She certainly won't take a look for an answer when she tries again, "Your heart stopped, for Christ's sake."

I gruff, "I'm fine, now please leave me alone."

"And then what are you gonna do? I'd like to think that my extreme efforts on keeping you alive isn't gonna be wasted."

I look away from her. If I keep my stare on her sincerely concerned face, I will lose it.

"I'm gonna go." Although I have no idea how.

"Oh, so you live somewhere near?" She asks, perking up. "I'll walk you."

I stop walking when we reach the curb. Caroline gives me a smile again. I guess that comes naturally to her, almost absentmindedly. I couldn't and probably never will understand how a person can just do that.

"Do you know where my car is?"

For the first time, her smile drops. She looks down awkwardly on her feet, a hand on the back of her neck. "It, um, it's kind of gone now?" She meets my eye again, gnawing nervously on her lower lip.

I furrow my eyebrows at her. "What do you mean?"

She clears her throat and starts to explain. "The gas leak elicited an explosion. Basically reducing your truck into pieces of scrap metal and sooth." She adds hastily, "After we pulled you off the vehicle, of course."

My lips part in shock. "My truck exploded?"

"I'm really sorry." She says, her face pained with guilt.

Despite all anger bubbling up inside of me, I just sigh. Somehow, I'm against causing her more pain. I get the impression that her euphoria rarely vacates her face. I don't want to cause any more mess but my own. "It isn't your fault." I say lowly.

"It isn't your fault, too." She says. I don't bother answering so she continues. "So where are you staying? I'm assuming you have a home somewhere nearby if you don't want to stay in the hospital. Although I haven't seen you around here before. So unless you've spent your whole life locked away in some tower or whatever, you're probably from outside the city. Come to think of it, I haven't met anyone from outside the borders but since you hit your car near our gates, we thought you're a citizen. You know, I mean, are you? 'Cause while guards are nice and all, they can be quite the bulldogs if they want to be."

Huh. And here I thought the male doctor from earlier is talkative. He barely mumbled compared to this girl right here.

But then something in what she said dawns on me.

"Wait, where are we?" I look around the empty parking lot and I see the silhouettes of skyscrapers in the semi-darkness.

Caroline dons a smile again. "We're in Philadelphia. Or Philly, as locals refer to it."

I have never even heard of that city before.

"Hey, are you okay?" She asks softly, her voice traced with a stint of genuine worry. Her hand gingerly touches my shoulder and, as I couldn't help it, my body goes rigid. I don't know this person. I don't know who she is, which is, I guess, why I am suddenly hit with overwhelming discomfort. She notices my sudden rash reaction so she retracts hand.

I clear my throat but my voice is still just as hoarse. "I'm fine."

Caroline gives me a look and sighs. "Look, if you want, you can come with me to my place and we can eat some banana bread-leftover from last night. I made them and," she giggles suddenly, her mood shifting up in just a matter of seconds again (is that an instability that is leaning towards bipolar disorder or just a good thing that she's always so damn happy?), "not to brag or anything but I make kickass banana bread. You're gonna love it. What do you say?"

I let out a deep, shaky breath. I really, really don't want to do this, to interact more with people. I mean, what's the point of it all if I'm just going to erase my existence anyway? I say to her, "No."

And just like that, her bright smile drops. I don't know why, but I get an uneasy feeling for doing just that. Am I just going to harrow people's feelings, darkening their source of light, just because I haven't basked in one in a hell of a long time? So I relent just a little bit and continue, "Just not tonight, okay? Maybe some other time." There. A total lie, yes, but it's certainly better than practically telling her that I detest spending another second with her.

"How, may I ask?" She asks, amusedly. I get the feeling that she's doing this on purpose, willing herself to leave whatever darkness clouds over her, even for mere seconds. "I don't even know your name."

"Well, next time I drive a car into a tree again, I'll consider that banana cake offer." I tell her sarcastically. But I seriously hope that she doesn't notice it though.

She laughs for a moment, the sound of it ringing lively in my ears. I don't want the effect that it has on me, how it somehow lightens the weight inside of me. No. I don't want to feel like this. I want to feel the great entirety of my misery because it's the strongest evidence of my love for Tris.

Thankfully, Caroline's laugh falters. But the question after that makes me regret that gratefulness. "Wait, you did that on purpose?"

Well, I certainly did not aim for that tree, but I figure that we don't end up with the things we actually want, ever.

I stare at her, despite the things that enter my head when I do so. The rising sun covers a distinct orange on her. I don't feel the same warmth as I did whenever I looked at Tris intently. But I could feel my heart beating faster. As if I'm waiting for something, anticipating something big and different and enticing. I instantly hate the feeling.

I decide not to answer her question. It's tiring to talk, but even more so when it's tainted with lying. I just say, "Thanks for the help." I guess if I answer honestly, then I'd have to explain and I honestly think I owe anyone that, especially her.


End file.
